The crown dug into her head, its weight an uncomfortable reminder to her neck. A reminder of what she had suffered woven together from beautiful metals with delicate attention. Any other girl in the Seven Kingdoms would have killed for such an adornment and the station that it came with but Arya Stark had accepted the honour grudgingly.
It had taken many years for Arya to realise that it had all been a game. Her father's death and its consequences had been used by many for their own purposes when, at the time, she had only seen her grief and loss. Now, she had committed herself to playing the accursed game for the rest of her life.
Her crown was golden, though not made of gold to her knowledge, but rather an odd metal whose name she had already forgotten due to her lack of interest. It was magnificent to be sure, with twisted barbs swirling and inching around her head. They were supposed to resemble antlers but Arya could not see the similarity, if it did exist. She was a wolf anyway. Not a stag and certainly not a doe.
"My Queen?" One of her handmaidens was talking to her, asking her a question. Arya ignored them most of the time. She found them uninteresting as they only seemed to tell her how lucky she was.
"What?" she asked the girl, trying to keep her tone indifferent rather that peevish. Her behaviour was now examined by everyone around her. She knew that her actions would reflect badly on Gendry, who could not afford to look weak.
"It is time for the men to leave, Your Grace." The girl looked meek and obedient but in reality she was just dull. Arya nodded absently, trying her best to look commanding and regal when she was really just worried.
She walked out of the tent, carefully making sure she didn't trip over her long skirts. Arya still retained her aversion to anything that would classify her as a lady but there was precious little else to wear at the encampment and probably more comfortable than anything else the men were wearing. However, after pretending to be a boy, Arya found that she was no longer so opposed to dressing like a lady occasionally; she was reminded of her mother and sister whenever she did.
There was so much movement around her that it was hard to make sense of everything. Men were arming themselves, women were packing up camp and there was a general rush to everyone she saw. The air smelled heavily of smoke and fires being put out, along with the stench that so many people accumulated. Sound filled her ears, so much that she could not distinguish between individual noises unless she concentrated.
Everyone stopped what they were doing when they saw her. Arya was not accustomed to the bowing or the titles or the crown or the dresses or the servants or anything. She wanted to scream at them all, show them how ferocious she really was but instead she just smiled and walked past as gracefully as she was able.
It was difficult for Arya to think of how many men would die over the course of the next few weeks. Most she did not know and though their deaths would sadden her, she was more concerned about the men that she could not bear to lose, her brother, her uncle and her husband.
Arya could remember when she had found what remained of the Starks. Everything had then begun to change for her. It had been a long time ago, in its own way, a much simpler time.
She had been reunited with what was left of her family after she had escaped from Harrenhal with Gendry and Hot Pie. The road had been rough. She had worried many times that they would starve but they had survived somehow and arrived at Riverrun. They had been walking through the seemingly endless forest when her ears had picked up a sound she had never hoped to hear again – the howl of a direwolf.
Her movements ceased and her breath shallowed as she wished for the repetition of such a call. Could it be Nymeria? Arya's senses returned all at once and her head began to ache. If she had been alone she would have hastened towards the sound and its source. But she was not alone. The two boys with her had no chance of remaining quiet enough to allow her to discover what she wanted to know.
"Did you hear that, Arry?" Hot Pie asked with a stupid expression on his face. Arya wanted to hit him but Gendry remained in between the two of them as a buffer against Arya's violence. The blacksmith apprentice knew her true identity as a Northern Princess and had followed her from Harrenhal, with a promise to see her safely to her brother in exchange for a nice forge of his own.
"Of course I heard it, I have ears, don't I?" Some unidentified aspect of Hot Pie's personality demanded a harsh response. Despite their reluctant friendship the two had formed, Arya could not forget that the boy had tried to steal Needle. She doubted Hot Pie had forgiven her for breaking his nose in answer for his thievery. There was also the fact that Hot Pie was fat, lazy and a craven, all attributes that Arya despised.
"What should we do then?" The Bull asked this time, probably to spare Hot Pie more of Arya's ire. Arya took a short moment to bask in how the two of them followed her. Her father was a great leader and her brother too. She was a Stark, even if she had to pretend otherwise, and the blood of the North flowed through her veins making her powerful and strong. She used that strength to make her decisions.
"I'm going to find whatever made that noise. The two of you can stay here if you're afraid." She knew that they would follow her now that their bravery had come into question. Boys were stupid like that, though she knew she was no better. Another reason why she was such a terrible lady, not at all like Sansa.
The thought of her sister brought Arya back to the reality that she could be reunited with Nymeria within mere moments. Her feet couldn't carry her over the debris and fallen branches quickly enough. She couldn't feel anything but the hope rising quickly in her chest; flying as high as Arya could imagine and the young girl rejected the thought of how painful it would be if she was mistaken and there was nothing for her to find.
She knew it wasn't Nymeria when another howl cut through the air. The difference between the cry of her wolf and the others was not something she could put into words. But a part of her knew that it wasn't Nymeria. Whatever had made the sound was probably just another average wolf that roamed near the trident, as wolves were wont to do as of late.
Arya lost her will to stand and when she sank to her knees she lost her will not to cry. Gendry and Hot Pie caught up to her but she didn't care. They both seemed stunned to find her in such a state. They were unsure of how they should proceed, neither of them had ever seen Arya show any kind of weakness before and though Arya wanted to be strong again, the wall was broken and she could not stop her tears.
Hot Pie looked at Gendry and Gendry looked at Arya. Carefully, he moved closer to her until he was crouched down near her as Hot Pie looked on, pretending to be somewhere else assuredly.
"It's not her," Arya wanted strength to be in her voice but instead she sounded weak, like a little, helpless girl. Gendry seemed to understand what had happened and what she had realised. He looked helpless himself, as if the sheer thought of comforting a crying girl was far beyond his capabilities.
"Riverrun can't be far from here, we'll be there soon enough. Then you can find your family. Isn't that what you wanted?" His attempts to distract her were blatantly obvious but she appreciated the effort. Somehow, she managed to bring herself off the ground. But now every part of her body was aching and it felt like there was something heavy in her chest.
Arya took a deep breath and avoided meeting anyone's eyes. She couldn't explain herself to Hot Pie; he didn't know who she really was. So how could she tell him that she missed her pet direwolf? She missed her brother Jon, because she never had to explain anything to him. He always just knew how she was feeling and how to make her feel better when she was sad. She missed her father, who would secretly encourage her to pursue what she loved even if it didn't match up with what he wanted her to be.
Her father who had been murdered in front of her.
The howling started again, accompanied by other noises, the rustling of leaves, the snapping of twigs and the yelling of voices. All the signs that men were approaching.
Arya closed her eyes and wished that she could give up, reveal herself to whoever these men were and deal with whatever consequences there were to be had. But she was a Stark of Winterfell, sister to the King in the North and she would not give up while there was breath in her body to fight. She had already lost herself once and she would not stomach it again.
They moved as quickly as they were able but it was not fast enough for them to escape as far away as Arya would have liked. Their refuge was a giant tree with roots twice the size of Gendry, even. It reminded her of her hiding place when she was forced to shoo Nymeria away. She was afraid, though she hoped that wasn't obvious to the other two.
She could hear the panting coming from Hot Pie and she thought that he must have pissed himself again, just like he had at Harrenhal. Gendry stood beside her, barely moving a muscle but she knew he was also afraid. Arya remembered what Syrio had taught her, fear cuts deeper than swords, and she tried to be brave like her father.
"To me! Hurry, we'll lose him!" That voice… Arya would know that voice anywhere. It was the voice who had teased good-heartedly when her stitches were crooked. It was the voice that had cheered for her when she had managed to shoot her first target. It was the voice that had comforted her when they had gone to visit the crypts where their family rested. It was the voice that whispered scary stories to her when Old Nan didn't want to. It was the voice of her brother.
"Robb?" she whispered, too quiet for the others to hear her. Arya's legs moved of her own accord, trying to get a better look so she could confirm that it was indeed him. Gendry attempted to pull her back into the shadows but she was a water dancer and much faster than the blacksmith.
Before she had the chance to do anything someone, likely a man travelling with her brother, yelled out.
"What have we here? A forest sprite here to present herself to our King? Or is it a smelly bandit, here to distract us while her companions try to relieve us of our possessions?" His laughter was joined by the rest of the men including the one she believed to be her brother who had finally turned around to look at her.
Arya had not seen Robb since she had left Winterfell. So much had happened since they parted and her brother had without a doubt, changed just as much as she had. His beard had grown out again, he looked taller (though it was hard to be certain for he remained on horseback) and worry lines had etched themselves deeply into his young, handsome face. But so much of him remained familiar; his blue, Tully eyes and the confidence in which he held himself. He was Robb and he was her brother.
However he did not appear to be having the same recognition as Arya. Then again he was a Lord turned into a King and she was a Lord's daughter turned into an orphan boy. She was ashamed of the way she looked shabby and filthy. Brother or no, Robb was a King now and he deserved a sister who at least looked like a girl.
Gendry and Hot Pie had come out from the tree but they still remained hidden. The men hadn't noticed them but they were there in case things went bad and she needed their help. They didn't know what was going on or what the outcome would be. The only thing they understood was that Arya, usually the essence of caution, had revealed them to a band of unknown riders.
When all seemed lost, as though her brother would not know her and send her away, an unlikely saviour appeared. To anyone else he would have been incredibly menacing but not to Arya. Even the other men seemed apprehensive about the giant direwolf being so close to them. Grey Wind was a shadowy grey, as his name would suggest and his yellow eyes reminded Arya of Nymeria. He must have recognised her scent for he trotted towards her until he stood so close she could see the little puffs of mist created by the wolf's breath. He looked at her for a moment before coming forward even closer and licking her fingers tenderly.
No one moved. No one breathed. No one could really believe the scene that was happening before them.
Robb snapped out of it first, dismounting from his horse quickly and with a grace Arya envied. He strode towards her with purpose clear on his face before stopping and looking at her deeply. Grey Wind ceased his ministrations and returned to his master's side. Arya didn't know whether or not Robb knew her to be his sister so she did the only thing she could think of.
She sank to her knees in a bow even though the ground was cold and the wetness spread through the fabric. "I am yours, Your Grace," she said the words clear, and loud enough for everyone to hear.
"NO!" He shouted at her sharply before grabbing her elbow and pulling her up so she was facing him again. "You do not bow to me." Then they were both crying and embracing and swearing never to let the other go ever again.
Arya felt happier than she had been ever since she left Winterfell. She was finally safe with her family. They would protect her and she would protect them. They were a pack of wolves and they would stick together.
Everything was different now.
It had been three years since that day and Arya had grown up to a certain degree. Over the next few weeks it seemed like she was set to do a fair deal more maturing.
From a distance she could see her mother. Lady Catelyn's once beautifully vibrant auburn hair was growing duller by the day and it was said that she aged three years faster than a normal woman. Arya knew that her mother had never recovered fully from her father's death and the thought of losing Robb chilled her to the bone. Her mother was not capable of seeing her children as anything other than who they used to be before the war.
As a child Arya had not been close to her mother. She was not the little lady she should have been and she was far too close to her bastard brother. Her attire was never skirts or dresses and she had always been violent and rude. All in all she was the exact opposite of what Lady Catelyn thought her daughter should be. Now they were practically inseparable.
They greeted each other with a warm embrace. Arya clung onto her mother for just a moment longer than what was normal, trying to convey her unease. Reluctantly she pulled away and smiled to the best of her ability. The smile was returned with an understanding one, in only the way that a mother could.
"Sweetling, you look tired. Did you not sleep well?" Arya was comforted by her mother's care even though it was misplaced. It occurred to Arya that after today they would have something else in common with one another. As of late Arya was coming to understand her mother in a way she had never been able to before.
"I'll sleep better when this is all over and we know our futures more certainly. How are the men faring?" Arya's weariness shone through her words as well as her distaste for what she was about to do.
"Men love war. It gives them a chance to prove themselves and the allure of the battle exists within them all. They are happy now, to be sure, sad to leave their families but content with what they must do. The nervousness will set in when they get closer to Kings Landing. Men will do as they have always done, Arya and the ones who survive will be rewarded greatly. That's the only thing they are thinking of now."
"I never would have imagined this when father was murdered. I only thought of survival for so long and revenge, those were the things that kept me alive. Now it's a different kind of fight, one that I cannot take part in but I know that we are so close to our vengeance, mother. Soon, we will make all the Lannisters pay for what they have done and there is nothing in this world that will make me happier."
Catelyn smiled thinly at her daughter's exclamation. "You will not be saying that for much longer. A child changes you, Arya, in ways that you would never think possible. Not to mention that your child will be heir to a powerful Kingdom. We will never let go of our hatred but you have a long life with your family ahead of you. Don't ever take that for granted."
Arya's hands moved down towards her stomach where her unborn child rested. Very few people knew that she was with child and she wanted to keep it that way. It had only been two moons since she had discovered the news herself and she wasn't entire certain about how she was feeling about such a change. Gendry had been thrilled, of course, wanting to scream the news to everyone that would listen. He regained his senses when Arya knocked them into him, if the word got out she would be targeted by the Lannisters.
The two women walked together through the camp, carefully manoeuvring through the constant movement of those around them. They were camped close to Riverrun until the men began to march for Kings Landing. All the women of the court were required to ride with them a part of the way, for which Arya was grateful. Most of her family was going south and she wanted as much time with them as she was allowed. A part of her was upset that she was not permitted to fight with the men, for she had just as much reason to fight as they did but a mothering instinct would not let her put the life of her baby at risk, nor would anyone else for that matter.
Horses smelled unseemly no matter who was riding them and with the number of horses that were living with them the stench was unbelievable. There was so much crap that it was impossible to avoid all of it and Arya was grateful that she had access to more than one pair of boots. Most of the other people around her weren't so lucky but she supposed that it could not be avoided. When the war ended things would be better. Or at least that's what she hoped. The truth was the war had gone on for so long that Arya had almost forgotten what it was like to live in happy peace.
The men looked noble and brave, all dressed up in their armour and standing next to their mighty warhorses. Her brother and her husband were wearing their crowns, smiling and laughing, trying to encourage those around them and instil bravery in their troops. They were putting a valiant effort, but Arya knew the end was approaching, that the war would be over in a few short weeks and their fates would be decided. They would be Kings if they won and dead if they lost.
"Ah, there's my beautiful wife. Soon she shall be Queen of the South and the entire world will envy me for being wed to such an amazing woman." Gendry was smiling widely when he saw her, as he often did. He was always so open about his feelings and Arya so closed about hers that many thought their marriage was a pure political arrangement. The truth was that they loved each other very dearly though; Arya was not entirely comfortable showing affection in front of others, a problem Gendry did not seem to suffer.
"You too kind, my King. Once you have your throne I'm sure there will be many a young girl who would wish to be married to you and rule the Kingdom by your side." Arya hated being so formal with Gendry. Hated being so proper, but it was only an act for those around them. She sounded like Sansa. When the two were alone Arya was just as wild and inappropriate as she always had been (to the amusement of her husband and her brother and to the distress of her mother and the rest of the court).
"I think you've forgotten about your beloved older brother, Arya. Women everywhere would cast away their husbands for a chance to marry the handsome King of the North." Robb was grinning nearby, looking every part the proud King of the North. He came forward towards his little sister and snatched her crown off her head long enough for him to ruffle her hair and place it back on her head. Arya scowled at him and tried to fix her hair a little bit before punching him on the arm, hard enough to make him wince.
"Seven hells, Arya you are a devil. I don't know how you're going to survive being married to her," he said to Gendry who just laughed at the whole exchange. Her mother didn't look nearly as pleased at their behaviour in front of some of the important lords but Arya could tell that she enjoyed seeing her two remaining children playing with each other.
"How long until you leave?" Arya asked, looking at each of the men in turn.
The atmosphere shifted from playful to serious in less than a moment. Clearly the mere mention of the upcoming departure was enough to remind them all that this could be the last time some would see each other. Faces looked at each other solemnly, Arya noticing familiar soldiers for the first time, including her uncle. She didn't want to lose anyone else but she understood the nature of war. People were going to die and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
"Soon, my dear niece" her uncle Edmure replied when no one else wanted to.
Arya nodded sadly. She turned to her brother and Gendry and said, "The two of you will need to address the men before you leave. Do you know what you're going to say?" She had been wondering the words they would chose to inspire the men who would follow them into battle. Gendry had been quite secretive about it which only served to convince Arya that he had no idea what he was going to say.
"That's a surprise, little sister but rest assured it will be inspirational." Robb tried to bring the joking air back to the group but it didn't work as he wanted. Arya still smiled at his attempt though she was beginning to feel sick, due to the circumstances or the baby she did not know.
Suddenly there was a movement in the corner of her eye. It was a man that she did not recognise but then again there were too many in the combined armies of the North and The Southern Lords that had bent the knee to Gendry for Arya to know each and every soldier. This man young, younger than her brother and had a clean-shaven but otherwise unmemorable face. The most important thing about this man is that he moved with a sense of great urgency.
It was time.
Everything that happened after that was a blur to Arya. The men gathered together faster than she had ever thought possible and congregated at the assigned area, waiting for her family to appear.
Arya's nausea increased and she rushed through a crowd of people, with her mother's assistance, so she could empty her stomach. She despaired that her secret would soon be discovered but her mother comforted her, saying that no one would fault her for feeling unwell at the thought of saying goodbye to her husband. Arya thought she would feel better once her stomach could empty but she still felt sick even when there was nothing left for her to bring up.
It was the thought of losing. The thought of saying good bye to the people she cared about and not seeing them again chilled her to the bone. Arya kept seeing the face of her father and brothers behind her eyelids. She missed them with everything that she was and she wished she could have her last moments with them again. There was so much that she would say to them. Arya didn't know how she would survive if she lost anyone else.
She felt strong arms grab at her elbow, pulling her upright. At first she thought it was her mother but then the arms encompassed her and she knew it was Gendry. Arya grabbed on to him with all the strength she possessed because some part of her believed that she could keep him with her if only she squeezed hard enough. Gendry, for his part, clung on to her just as tightly as she did.
"Hush, little wolf. Everything will be alright you'll see. We outnumber them five to one and we've been planning this attack for over a year. Our spies with the Lannisters, good men, have assured us that they have no clue as to our intentions. It will be a fierce battle, yes but we are good fighters Arya. Maybe we're not as good as you are but I promise you that I will return and we'll be happy together."
Arya looked at him, really looked at him. She saw his bright, blue eyes and his shaggy black hair. He met her gaze and she blushed to think of what he was seeing. Her grey eyes were bloodshot and her hair was still messed from when Robb had played with it before. It was a well-known fact that she would never be as beautiful as her mother or her sister and even though no one referred to her as 'Arya Horseface' anymore she still hated it when people looked at her too intently. She would occasionally laugh bitterly to herself when she thought about her poor choice of occupation.
"Don't go, send someone else instead, and just… stay with me." Arya knew that it was selfish of her to ask this of him. He would want to say yes but there was no way that he could. She also knew that if she had been in his position there would be nothing that could convince her not to fight and Gendry was no different.
"I wish I could and you know that. But just imagine how it will feel to walk through the halls of the Red Keep, knowing that you have taken everything from the people who have done you wrong. And when we see each other again I will give you a great gift, one that you will dream about for years to come."
"And when I see you again I will give you the gift of an heir to be the pride of both our houses."
He pulled her towards him so that he could kiss her softly. She loved it when he held her like that, like he didn't care what happened with the war as long as they were together. The men surrounding them made catcalls and whistled but Arya couldn't bring herself to worry about that, not when her time left with her husband diminished with every passing moment. Instead she closed her eyes and focused on everything Gendry made her feel. It was a chaste kiss by her standards, but it made Arya feel everything. It was a promise that he would return and that their life together had not ended.
Arya's mood had been perilous of late due to the baby, an example of which was the ease of which tears sprung to her eyes. Normally she would be strong, like the North but now she sobbing like a child in front of an entire army of people she wanted to intimidate. Gendry didn't say anything, electing instead to just hold her close and stroke her hair.
Eventually her mother came and pulled her away from her husband. Catelyn held Arya in a grip of stone even against her daughter's struggling to break free. Gendry watched the scene with haunted eyes that showed a deep desire to stay with the woman he loved. Robb too wanted to go to his sister, but both men adhered to their duty. Men tried to turn their eyes away from the spectacle their Queen was making but it was impossible to ignore Arya's cries.
Gendry turned away swiftly, away from his wife. Without looking at Arya again he saddled his horse and totted towards Robb at the front line. It was time for the inspiring speech. Arya tried to quiet herself so she could hear their words. If either Robb or Gendry died then she wanted their last words to her to be properly magnificent.
"Listen to me you sorry sons of whores," Robb started. "This war has destroyed once proud people and places. Men have been murdered, women have been raped and homes have been wrecked. I did not ask to be a King but I will lead you into victory or into defeat if that's what the Gods have willed."
Robb was yelling now but it didn't detract from the importance behind his words.
"When they look back on this day, hundreds of years from now, they will tell the story of the thousands of brave men who fought for justice. The North remembers and WINTER IS COMING!"
The north men cheered loudly for their King. Robb grinned at his troops, the very ones who had given him his crown. When Arya looked at him she no longer saw her brother but a King who these men would follow to the death. Gendry sometimes revealed to Arya that he envied Robb's ease with his men. She tried to explain to him that his people loved him just as much as the North loved Robb but he didn't believe her.
Then it was Gendry's turn. To everyone else he appeared cool and collected but Arya knew that he was terrified. Sitting atop his horse with so many people dedicated to every word he had to say was obviously more frightening than the apprentice blacksmith, turned King had expected. It didn't take long for him to break his promise to himself and look back at Arya. Her eyes started back at him, pillars of strength that gave him the courage to speak.
"It wasn't that long ago that I was nothing more than a bastard blacksmith. The war and the actions of Kings mattered very little to me as long as I had a nice warm forge. Then I found out that my father was one of the very Kings I disregarded. We never know what tomorrow will bring us, whether we will be richer, poorer, alive or dead. Fighting against the Lannisters is the right thing to do because they have never known what it is like to have to fight to survive. Their King is the product of an unholy union between brother and sister with no real claim to the throne. He is their King because he believed he was entitled to whatever he wanted. We fight against him because he does not care about his subjects. That is what makes this the right thing to do."
Arya couldn't remember a time she had been prouder for Gendry.
The people cheered for Gendry even louder than for Robb though the King of the North did not begrudge him for it. Soon cries of 'Stark' and 'Baratheon' rang through the troops. The Kings smiled at each other before leading their horses towards the chosen path, starting the march for Kings Landing and for the future of the Seven Kingdoms.
Hello everyone, I hope you liked this. I might write a few more chapters depending on the response I get. It probably won't be a very long story though. I would like to give a quick shout out to my best friend, Carra for proof reading this for me (she's the greatest person in the world).
I own nothing.
Please review!